Phonecalls
by Serena89
Summary: "We're sorry…the number you have reached is not in service at this time. Please check the number, or try your call again."  A story told through phonecalls and memories. Minor spoilers for 7.11 and speculations. House as a voyeur and mild smut.


AUTHOR'S NOTES: Just a pointless piece of fluff. It may contain spoilers for 'Family Practice' based on this promo pic:

'.com/aAfkjfp01fo1i-28828/loc257/04951_Hs7ep714_Sc01_AT_0071F_122_'

To be quite honest, this fanfiction is more like a B-plotless-movie with naked boobs than anything else. Read at your own risk.

And on Matt Mitovich's teasing quote: If you're going to dress like an Italian hooker, at least let it be THIS YEAR's Italian hooker.

**[H]ouse's characters belong to David Shore, who wastes them with medical chit chat when he could have them make love on every surface. No copyright infringement intended.**

**PHONECALLS **

_She's crazy and she hates me_

_[_] [_] [_] [_]  
_

- Cuddy's household, who's speaking?

- It's Greg. Can I talk to C-Lisa?

- _Greg. _As in the _momzer_ who broke her heart and never called back? That Greg?

- Listen, I just…

- No. _You_ listen, young man. I know my daughter is not easy to live with, she can be a real handful, and she has a terrible, terrible taste in men. You're the living proof. We may not have much of a relationship, but I know when she's hurting and she's hurting over you.

- You gave her an eating disorder, a self-esteem problem, an over-achievement obsession and now you pretend to know how she feels because she _confided _in you? You're the mom of the year, right.

- I've raised two teenage girls. I know how to eavesdrop. And I don't care how much of a smartass you think you are, Gregory. You don't get to call whenever you want; you don't get to play with her if you're not in for the whole match. Call again, hurt her again, and I'm going to castrate you. Are we clear, shmate?

- Tell her I said Merry Hanukkah.

_[_] [_] [_] [_]_

_He wakes up at 5am. He feather kisses her on the shoulder, on her nose, on her neck, on her peacefully closed eyelids and, eventually, on her lips at 6.25am. He makes coffee and pancakes for her, and leaves them on the small kitchen table at 6.50am. He has classes at 9am. At he engraves a heart on her brand new wooden desk, just for the heck of it, on the same spot his hand was the previous night when ( _his lips kissing her sternum, one of her hands on his butt_) he realized he loved her. He leaves her a note stuck on his little handiwork at 7.05am._

I'LL CALL YOU BACK, CUDDLES.

_At 9.3oam he receives the call from the dean._

_[_] [_] [_] [_]_

- Arlene Cuddy speaking, who's this?

- Good evening Mrs Cuddy. This is Dr Cuddy's redecorator, Juan. Dr Cuddy asked us to get her…_"desk from medschool"_ out of storage for her and instructed us to call you and arrange the transportation.

- I guess my _tochter_ was too busy to call her own mother and ask me herself, wasn't she? Well, Mr Juan, tell her I don't have that desk anymore. It was old, seedy, and she didn't seem to plan on using it any time soon. So I've sold it to a junk dealer. I've never understood why she was so unhealthily attached to that thing anyway.

- She just likes the hard wood.

- Now that's a very inappropriate comment, Juan. You people should adequate to our Country's good manners. This is not how you speak to a lady.

- I'm sorry. Would you give me the name of this antiquarian, _ma'am_? I'll take care of it.

- Aren't you taking too much trouble for an office redecoration? It's just a desk.

- I'm very dedicated to my job.

_[_] [_] [_] [_]_

_It took him 3 days to trace the desk. 200 bucks to buy it back from _ _the student who had got it for 20 and 5 more days, a couple of strings-pulls and threats to have it restored in time. _

_[_] [_] [_] [_]_

_- Mom. _I'm in the dressing room, can it wait? I know you want to check the other stores, just give me a minute.

- It's me.

- House? What are you doing with my mother's phone?

- Pranks. International phonecalls. Checking on the hotline girls to see if they're fine. Usual stuff. Look on your right.

- There's a dress.

- D'uh. Try it on.

- Did _you_ put it here for me? House, where are you?

- I'm watching you.

- Did you…hide a _webcam _in a public dressing room?

- God no. You left your curtain slightly open, and from where I am now I can see your reflection on the mirror. And your fat ass. With a pair of binoculars. Not your fat ass, that one I can see with my naked eyes.

- Oh God. What are you, a naughty dirty boy on bird sighting?

- You can spank me later.

- You won't turn this phonecall in a bad porn convo, okay? We already did that yesterday. How did you know I was going to enter in this dressing room?

- Not too close to the door, away from the noises of the store, but not so far to feel trapped. The third one has a broken light bulb and the fifth's mirror makes you feel fat. You were always one for middle ground.

- No I'm not. And it was the only vacant one.

_- Fine. _I've placed a dress in each of them, but I secretly hoped you picked this one because it has the best view. Happy now? I feel exposed - you're taking away every mysterious sexy mystery I hold. Try it on.

- It'd make me look like an Italian prostitute. It's hideous.

_She unzipped her dress, with a deliberate, painfully slow movement, enjoying the heat of his hungry eyes on her. Almost caressing her smooth shoulders, she slides away the straps of her dress and wriggles out of it mostly for his benefit. He growls, staring at her body, covered by nothing else than her perly lingerie. His voice is lower, when he speaks again, and she doesn't fail to miss that, her mischievous smile partially hidden by the curtain. She extends her hand to the red dress, when House stops her._

- There's something else I want you to try first. On the stool to your left.

- A _purple _bra?

- It goes well with the slutty outfit I've picked for you.

- You got the size wrong. I'm a C-cup House, not a D.

- Nobody knows your breasts better than I do, Cuddles. I've squeezed them, worshipped them, kissed them, held them in my hands, dreamed of them, licked them and stared at them more than anyone in the whole world. They're blossoming, overflowing. I guess that, like plants, the more you talk to them the more they grow. And I actually talk to them rather than to you usually so…try it on.

_She's enjoying it. His low, raspy voice in her hear. His commanding tone. His hidden position and scrutinizing eyes on her. Her sister trying a sweatshirt on, three dressing cubes from where she's standing. Her mother wandering through the store while House stares at her touching herself, guiding her through his sick little game. _

_In one swift move the bra is removed, exposing her full breasts completely. His breathing is ragged, and his stomach does a summersault when he catches a glimpse of her smile. (_Damn Mexicans and their rotten tacos)_, her nipples are rosy and perky - either for the sudden wave of cold, or arousal, or maybe both. His jeans suddenly feel tight, when she grabs the bra he chose for her and bends forward. Having full optical access to both her creamy ass and delicious front, he considers covering the whole bedroom - fuck, the whole house, the whole hospital, the whole world - with mirrors._

- What are you doing?

_He stammers, and he hates himself for it._

- It's called _Swoop and Scoop, _House. I'm trying to prove you I'm not a D cup, no matter how hard you wish I were.

_She allows her breast to delicately fall into the bra, filling the cup naturally, and then fastens the bra on its loosest hook. _ _When she stands up, she uses the opposite hand to place each breast gently into the cup_. _Her breasts are aching for his touch, and she suddenly regrets the moment she agreed to this Cuddy Girls' Sunday Shopping when she could've spent the whole day lazily fooling around with House in her bed, eating pizza from the carton, not caring about the crumbs on her expensive sheets. Drinking wine and watching Magnum PI reruns, fucking and laughing. With these thoughts in mind, she then runs her index finger along the inside top edge of the bra cup to make sure breast tissue doesn't spill over the edges. Lightly touching her now hard nipples in the process, she holds back a moan. The bra fits perfectly._

- Oh, you foxy nymph. And you're welcome.

- Likewise.

_She's tired of this game. She's hot, bothered and in a hurry to get the hell outta here, dump her mother, and give House the most mindblowing Sunday Shag he's ever had. Damn him for reducing her in this state, damn him for making her feel like a slut, and damn him for making her enjoy every minute of it. _

_She tries on that nasty dress of his. It's too tight, it squeezes her in, holds her in. The fabric feels uncomfortable on her now sensitive skin, and her pushed-up breasts spill outrageously out of it. Oh God, she _does _look like an Italian Prostitute. _

- I'm not buying this thing.

- It's okay, I just grabbed some random dress. What really matters is the journey, not the destination.

- A nice way to say you only wanted to _spy _on me while I undressed _for you_.

- Potato, _potato. _Come home with me.

_[_] [_] [_] [_]_

_He stands up, and waits for her in the parking lot. She rushes out of the dressing room, looking for her mother, ready to make up an excuse. Frustrated, Cuddy's about to text her she's had a work emergency, and then she curses. Damn House for stealing Arlene's cellphone._

_It's been 14 minutes and Cuddy is still AWOL. He dials her number._

- We're sorry… the number you have reached is not in service at this time.  
Please check the number, or try your call again.

FIN


End file.
